


You go your way / I'll go your way too...

by MiserableLie95



Category: Morrissey (Musician), The Smiths
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 18:03:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9670010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiserableLie95/pseuds/MiserableLie95
Summary: Smiths Era. Breakup scenario.





	

\- Morrissey turned over the postcard in his fingers, staring at the words on the back as if he hadn’t already memorized the postcard’s content. “LA. Seeing you everywhere. Home on the 18th. X. Johnny”. He’d already gone through every emotion on the spectrum since it had come in the post, but when the day finally arrived, he still didn’t feel ready. It had been over a month since Johnny told him that he had to leave the group. Countless sleepless nights and a prescription later, he could only wonder how the days continued to go by, seemingly without him taking part in any of them since Johnny had left.

Johnny stood outside Morrissey’s back door at half past six, a duffel bag over his shoulder, his sunburn prickling and a pair of dark sunglasses hiding bloodshot eyes. He tapped on the glass quickly, sniffing hard and glancing over his shoulder speculatively as if he expected to be followed. Morrissey left the living room with a dry mouth and took a deep breath as he crossed the kitchen and unlocked the door to let him in.

“Mozzer," Johnny said brightly, looking up at him and studying his expression from behind his sunglasses. He was tired, he could tell. He wondered when the last time he slept a full night was.

“I got your postcard," Morrissey replied flatly.

Johnny smiled, but Morrissey’s blank expression remained unchanged, so he cleared his throat before he said, “I was hoping you would." 

“Come in”, Morrissey said. 

“I brought you that wine you like," Johnny told him, putting his bag down at the singer’s kitchen table.

“I’ll get some glasses," Morrissey replied, trying to make his voice sound less terse.

“Ah, I don’t want to drink the wine on you”, Johnny said, following Morrissey over to the liquor cabinet. “Have you got anything else?” Johnny asked, going through the cabinet while Morrissey got the glasses. “You’ve got the gin I like," Johnny announced, taking out a full bottle of gin. He closed the cabinet door and straightened up, meeting Morrissey’s bashful gaze.

“I liked it too," Morrissey answered. He tried not to blush. Johnny’s fingers brushed against his as he took one of the glasses out of his hand, and he was glad to avert his attention to opening one of the bottles of wine that Johnny had got for him. Johnny filled most of his glass with gin, only putting in a splash of seltzer water from the fridge.

“You’re tanned," Morrissey noted, leaning against the counter to study the guitarist.

Johnny took off his sunglasses and tucked them into the pocket of his shirt, nodding. He tapped his glass against Morrissey’s. “To adding a bit of sunshine into your life," Johnny said, raising his glass. Morrissey smirked and raised his own glass, taking a deep sip of Californian wine.

“Just as sweet as I remember it”, Morrissey said as they both sat at the table.

His mind turned back to almost a year before, when their tour went through California. All that wine, those hot and frenzied nights. He moved his eyes over the familiar figure of the guitarist, remembering his part in those memories; love bites and scratch marks and fair Irish skin burned by summer sun. He thought he could never be happier than he was then. Sold out arenas all along the country, an enormously successful American summer tour had them all feeling on top of the world. Johnny would later say that it was the summer tour when he knew everything was falling apart, that they were doing more than they could handle, but it certainly didn’t feel like it at the time.

“The weather was incredible," Johnny noted. His voice sounded slightly detached as Morrissey’s mind combed through memories of nights from a year ago. Johnny took a sip of his drink and then cleared his throat again, meeting Morrissey’s eyes. “I have to say, it didn’t feel as good as it did before."

“I doubt anything ever will," Morrissey laughed.

Johnny grinned and launched into stories about the people he had seen there, carefully avoiding the names of the musicians he had worked with and hung around. They talked until Morrissey had almost finished the first bottle of wine, and Johnny was halfway through the gin.

“Oh, I’ve got something else for you," Johnny said suddenly, reaching over for his bag again. “A couple somethings, actually," he corrected himself. Morrissey took a sip of his drink, glad his face was already flushed from the wine so Johnny couldn’t tell how touched he was by the thought. He was handed a book and a couple of records, and he turned them over in his hands carefully, his throat tightening with emotion.

“Should we listen?” Morrissey asked, smiling over at the guitarist warmly. He couldn’t possibly process his emotions or the time and thought Johnny had spent on him while they were apart. It just didn’t make sense.

Johnny agreed, and brought his glass with him to the living room, where Morrissey had all the curtains drawn. Morrissey sat on the edge of the couch, holding the gin while Johnny put a record on. “All I’ve wanted was to be here and play this album for you," Johnny said as he took the album out of its sleeve.

Morrissey laughed in disbelief, shaking his head as Johnny looked over his shoulder at him. “I know that can’t be true”, Morrissey said. “You’re being chased down by the label and torn apart by the press."

Johnny opened his mouth then closed it, taking his drink back from the singer. “Maybe I don’t feel the same way about living in England as I used to," Johnny said finally, sitting down next to Morrissey on the couch. “But I still want to be here. Right here, I mean."

Johnny looked away and took another sip of his drink as the record began, and Morrissey moved forward to lean his elbow on the arm of the couch, glassy eyes watching the album spin. Johnny rubbed his hand along Morrissey’s back as the first side of the album finished, holding his empty drink in his other hand, noticing that the older man didn’t react.

“Did you actually hear any of that?” Johnny asked exasperatedly. Morrissey started slightly, as if awoken from a stupor, and turned to look at Johnny guiltily.“You’ve not been sleeping well," Johnny summarized. Morrissey shook his head, running his hand through his hair. Johnny frowned and got up from the couch, talking over his shoulder as he switched records.

“We’ll save the other side for another time, then. You’ve got to stay up a little bit longer, however," he said, turning back to Morrissey. “Dance with me. It’ll be slow and-," he paused before he could let the word ‘painless’ slip out of his mouth. Certainly, he’d caused enough pain already. And his presence now, in Morrissey’s living room after a month hiding out in California, was surely no different.

“We’ll take it easy… I promise," he sighed. He held out his hand.

“I’ll trust you, but don’t you go and take advantage of me. I’m tired and vulnerable”, Morrissey laughed. He got up with Johnny’s help, and crossed the room to the record player.

“I’ve been thinking of this from the moment I saw the record. I just couldn’t quite figure out who is supposed to lead," Johnny laughed.

“Either the better dancer or the bigger person, I think. And since we know I am both of those things,” Morrissey said matter-of-factly, taking the lead by placing his hand on Johnny’s waist as the record began.

Johnny laughed and took his hand again, and the two of them moved in small circles around the living room to an old Leonard Cohen song. When he heard the chorus Morrissey pulled Johnny closer, until they were hugging more than dancing, swaying on the spot with their arms around each other.

“This song is too slow to dance to,” Morrissey said quietly.

“I don’t care,” Johnny replied. He rubbed his hands along Morrissey’s back, pulling him as close as possible, feeling the singer’s heartbeat against his own.

“Johnny,” Morrissey sighed, his breath against Johnny’s sunburned neck making the younger man break out into goosebumps. Johnny quickly considered his options. It could’ve meant a number of things, Morrissey saying his name like that. He could turn his face and kiss him, or he could find his partner in tears.

“How am I supposed to let you go?” Morrissey murmured, half to himself. “I’ve tried, but, god, I don’t think I can.”

“Don’t, then,” Johnny said sharply after a moment. His voice was jagged with a familiar surge of emotion whenever the topic arose. “I can’t do it, Morrissey. I want to be with you.”

“Please. I can’t take this conversation again," Morrissey replied, bitterness biting into his tone. “You’ve left the group. You’ve left the country. I understand what is to come won’t be any easier.”

“Leaving is what has shown me that there’s nothing either of us can do”, Johnny told him. “It will be you and me, as long as we both live. Ten, twenty, fifty years from now- our names will be linked forever. And I’ve got to tell you, knowing that- it’s a fucking relief."

“You’ve got your whole life ahead of you if you’d like to change that,” Morrissey replied darkly.

“I got exactly what I wanted. In one of the biggest bands on the planet, in love with the person who put me on top of the world in every way I could have ever imagined,” Johnny’s voice broke, and Morrissey sighed.

“Don’t be so upset,” Morrissey said quietly, pressing his face against Johnny’s shoulder so the guitarist could dry his eyes in peace.

“I’m sorry,” Johnny said in a choked voice.

“You don’t have to apologize any more.”

“Yes, I do,” Johnny replied.

Johnny leaned back and kissed him deeply then, guiding them back to the couch as their lips moved together. Johnny could taste the wine he’d brought back from America, breathing in the intoxicating combination of Californian wine and Morrissey’s cologne; a rush a memories and days past flooding his mind as soft cotton separating their bodies was lifted away from flushed skin, a level of understanding far beyond words.

“Would it be alright if I stayed here tonight?” Johnny asked, moving his hands over the singer’s tense shoulders.

“You don’t have to go home?” Morrissey inquired.

Johnny shook his head in response, his lips pressed together tightly.

“Well, yes, that’s fine with me," Morrissey said. He had his eyebrows furrowed in thought, distanced from the moment.

“You don’t have to say yes…To anything, you know,” Johnny said, sensing the other man’s hesitancy. “You’re certainly entitled to tell me to fuck off and leave you alone for once and for all,” Johnny said, his voice hard. “I think I’d feel a hell of a lot better if you did.”

Morrissey smiled sadly and shook his head. “No, I’d like you to stay. I missed you. And I tend to sleep better with you around.”

“I think it’s because I know how to tire you out," Johnny said, looking between their bodies speculatively.

“It helps to an extent, yes,” Morrissey laughed.

“I missed you too,” Johnny said quietly, looking down shyly as the words left his mouth. “I wanted to call, I wanted to hear your voice… But I thought it might upset you. And I thought I might not be able to take it myself… It took me days to decide if I should send a postcard or not.”

“I was glad you did,” Morrissey said. “It was probably for the best that you didn’t call. I was… Well, you could say things have been in quite a state.”

“I’m just as lost as you are,” Johnny said.

“Yes, and that used to be fine because at least I had someone on my side to be lost with. But we’re not in it together any more, are we?” Morrissey replied scathingly.

“I’m still on your side, Moz. I’ll always be here for you,” Johnny said, trying to keep emotion out of his voice.

“Just stop,” Morrissey said in a hard tone. He pulled his hand away from Johnny’s, trying to stop his emotions from getting out of his control.

Johnny was quiet for a moment. He didn’t want to argue when they both knew there was nowhere for the conversation to go. “I want what is best for you. Can I say that much?”

“Who in their right mind would say it’s best to be apart from the person you love?” Morrissey questioned, shaking his head.

He rubbed his eyes and Johnny watched him with a heavy heart, unable to say anything that could fix it, and Morrissey knew it. Apologies, leaving, offering any words of consolation- nothing could heal how bad both of them had been and would continue to be hurting. Morrissey was too tired to cry. He had been crying all month. It wouldn’t do him any good. It was only a matter of time, days- probably, until Johnny told the rest of the group that he was leaving the band, and then he’d be free, and Morrissey would be on his own again- having to find some way to scrape through the rest of his life.

“Christ, I need a drink,” Morrissey said darkly. He nearly smiled at the phrase coming from his mouth. Johnny followed him into the kitchen and watched the singer pour out gin for both of them, splashing in the seltzer water.

“To you, my love,” Morrissey said coldly, tilting his glass in Johnny’s direction.

He drank it too fast on purpose, feeling the alcohol sear in his chest. Johnny took a sip from his glass and licked his lips. It was strong, and Morrissey had already drank a bottle of wine. He wanted to tell Morrissey to stop, but felt that any sort of reaction to what Morrissey was doing to himself would only result in Morrissey saying that he’d had enough of Johnny trying to tell him what was best for him, which was fair enough. After he’d finished it, he was holding his head up in his hand, and Johnny could tell he was finished for the night. It was nothing another drink could fix.

“I’d like to go to bed,” Morrissey said quietly.

“Can I come with you or do you want me to leave?” Johnny asked.

“Please stay,” Morrissey replied tiredly. His pride had already having crumbled some weeks previously.

“I want to,” Johnny said, coming over to Morrissey to help him up. His head swam when he stood, and he steadied himself a moment, feeling Johnny’s arm wrap around his waist. They went upstairs, where they washed up and undressed in the light from the nightstand lamp, Morrissey flopping onto the bed as Johnny took off his clothes, his bleary eyes following the guitarist’s movements.

“Your back is sunburned,” Morrissey informed him.

“I can feel it,” Johnny said as he got under the covers next to him. “I fell asleep laying on my stomach at the beach,” Johnny explained, looking over at the singer.

“Should I not put my arms around you, then?” Morrissey asked softly. His drunken gaze was earnest, shy.

Johnny shrugged, wrapping his arms around him tightly. Morrissey moved his hand to hold Johnny’s face instead, brushing his fingers through the guitarists’ hair. He took a breath, ignoring the thought in the back of his mind that told him to stop, and kissed Johnny gently, his head spinning as Johnny’s lips parted with a gasp of relief. Johnny kissed back hungrily, their mouths moving together quickly, Johnny pulling the singer closer- trying to expel the guilt he’d been dealing with and how badly he had hurt Morrissey. He moved to kiss Morrissey’s neck and forgot about being gentle, so turned on when he heard Morrissey moan at the feeling of him leaving marks on his skin.

Johnny pulled at his hips, tangling their legs together as their lips met again, gasping, “Oh, baby” against Morrissey’s mouth when he felt his partner against him.

Morrissey lowered his head, pressing his lips against Johnny’s shoulder. “Shouldn’t, really…” Morrissey mumbled, “I’m already enough of a wreck.”

Johnny laughed and moved his hands along Morrissey’s sides, kissing the side of his head. “You do seem a bit smashed,” Johnny noted.

“A bit, sure,” Morrissey laughed. “But that’s not what I meant.”

He licked his lips and started kissing along Johnny’s neck, stopping after feeling the heat of his sunburn. “Ah, does it hurt?” Morrissey asked, leaning back to look up at the guitarist. Johnny shook his head, moving his fingers through Morrissey’s hair.

“It’s good to feel something else for a moment,” Johnny said, looking at Morrissey’s mouth. He leaned in and kissed him again, sucking at Morrissey’s bottom lip. Johnny was persistent despite his guilty thoughts, pulling Morrissey against him when he heard a low groan of approval at his lips moving over the singer’s chest.

“Can you feel that?” Morrissey asked coyly when their hips touched.

“God, yes,” Johnny groaned, rocking his lower body up against Morrissey’s in response.

“I never thought there would be so many ways to miss you,” Morrissey laughed.

Johnny moaned softly, kissing Morrissey’s neck. He could feel Morrissey’s hands moving down his body and nearly tensed with anticipation until he looked up and saw the way Morrissey was watching him.

Morrissey had paused for a moment, skimming his fingers along Johnny’s torso, tanned from a month in Los Angeles. He breathed in sharply as he eased the sheet down their thighs, watching the tan fade to pale skin, untouched by the sun.

“Quite tanned indeed… Now I know what you were doing all that time,” Morrissey said pointedly, moving his hands over the sharp planes of Johnny’s hips.

“Ah, how long has it been?” Johnny asked. He shuddered slightly as Morrissey’s thumbs traced along his pelvis.

“A month and some days,” Morrissey answered gravely. Not something he easily forgot.He kissed across Johnny’s chest, moving his mouth over the guitarist’s nipples, sucking lightly as he felt Johnny arching underneath him, an eager moan muffled against his hair. Morrissey kissed him a while longer, moving over the hollows of Johnny’s collarbone and his freckled shoulders, the idiosyncratic parts of him that he missed most in his absence.

“I can feel your heart racing,” Morrissey muttered, pressing his lips against Johnny’s thin chest.

“I missed this,” Johnny answered softly. He moved his fingers though Morrissey’s hair as Morrissey raised his head to kiss him on the lips.

“You have no idea,” Morrissey replied.

“Well, one thing gives me a bit of an idea,” Johnny smiled, pulling Morrissey’s hips down against his own again.

“Ah, you’re one to talk,” Morrissey laughed, smiling as Johnny kissed him on the lips.

“I missed you too, Johnny,” Morrissey said softly as they broke apart for a breath. They looked at each other for a moment and Morrissey kissed him hard, making Johnny moan against his mouth as their bodies moved together.

“Ah, baby…” Johnny gasped, looking between their bodies longingly. Morrissey moved down his body, looking up to make eye contact with Johnny as he gripped the base of his cock. He kissed the tip of his cock and let his saliva run down his length, moving his hand along his cock slowly.

“Ahhh,” Johnny groaned, propping up the pillow underneath his head. Morrissey started giving him head slowly, paying careful attention and using his hand to cover every inch. Johnny moaned and moved his hand over his chest and stomach, and Morrissey watched him for a moment before reaching for Johnny’s hand and placing it on the back of his head, giving him control.

“Oh, Moz,” Johnny moaned, his chest heaving. “Don’t worry, babe.” He threaded his fingers through the singer’s hair but didn’t change his pace, gasping eagerly as Morrissey took him deeper. Morrissey pulled away for a moment, using his hand instead, feeling Johnny’s cock throb underneath his fingers.

“Come here,” Johnny said in a low voice.

Morrissey moved up the bed again and Johnny kissed him hard, biting his lip and thrusting against him. “Johnny,” Morrissey gasped, feeling the guitarist’s hands move down his body. The singer moaned as Johnny spread his legs and took his cock into his hand, stroking him slowly as they kissed, rubbing his thumb over the bead of moisture at his head.

“Let me have you,” Johnny said against his neck.

Morrissey rolled onto his back and moaned in contentment as Johnny kissed neck and his chest, breathing hard and gasping against his skin. He reached into Morrissey’s nightstand and fumbled until he found the lube, coating his cock slowly.

“Honey,” Johnny moaned, swallowing hard for a moment. He leaned in and kissed him on the lips, keeping their faces close together.

“Yes, Johnny,” Morrissey replied softly.

Johnny looked down and guided his cock into his partner, a low groan in his throat. He thrusted in gently, watching Morrissey’s head fall back against the pillow as he filled him completely. Johnny went slow and deep, wanting to last, knowing it should be the last time they were ever intimate like that, but not believing himself capable in his heart.

Morrissey lifted his hips and moaned softly, wrapping his arms around Johnny’s neck. Their bodies moved in unison, Morrissey accepting every thrust with a little gasp or a moan, unable to close his eyes and release himself to the pleasure because he had to memorize the sensation, the way Johnny’s body tangled with his own, the look on his face when he dropped his head and kissed him. He knew it would end, and all he would be able to do was remember. Both of them being stuck in their heads detracted from the moment, and Johnny could see it in Morrissey’s face. He slowed down his thrusts and pushed his hand through his hair.

“What’s the matter? Are you thinking about something else?” Johnny asked, a hint of nervousness in his voice.

“No, I’m thinking about this”, Morrissey answered.

“Does it not feel good? We could change if you like. Or, you know, I could stop,” Johnny offered, swallowing hard. Morrissey shook his head, reaching to touch Johnny’s face consolingly.

“I feel good, Johnny. I don’t want anything else”, he assured him, kissing him on the lips. “My thoughts got ahead of me”, Morrissey explained.

“Mine did too”, Johnny said. “I just want to be here with you. I wonder if we can manage that for another, say, twenty minutes,” Johnny laughed.

“I’d like to”, Morrissey smiled, brief as it was, and Johnny kissed him again.

They kissed for a while to get back into it, teasing bites against each other’s lips, deepening the kiss and continuing it until they had to gasp for air. Morrissey moaned, ready now, moving his hands along Johnny’s body to push at his hips, telling him to start thrusting again. Johnny went slightly harder, wrapping Morrissey up in his arms and keeping them close together.

“Ohhh,” Morrissey moaned, gripping the guitarist tightly. “Mmmm, God,” he groaned, moving stroke himself as Johnny continued.

“Go on, love”, Johnny pleaded, panting as he watched the singer. “So fucking hot”, he gasped, kissing Morrissey hard. Johnny went faster for a while, barely able to keep himself from cumming as Morrissey moaned into his ear, gasping his name.

“Oh, yeah. I can’t wait to finish you off”, Johnny said, kissing Morrissey’s neck. He was gasping, getting to his final thrusts. Morrissey could tell by the breathless quality of his voice that he was about to finish, both of their faces flushed in their efforts. “Oh, Moz”, Johnny moaned, leaning back to go faster. Morrissey bit his lip and felt Johnny’s cock pulse, and another desperate moan left Johnny’s lips before he gasped, his body shaking as he reached his climax.

“Ohhh, ohhh”, Johnny moaned, his mouth opening in arousal as he watched Morrissey stroke himself faster. He groaned in relief as his orgasm ebbed away, thrusting slowly in the aftershocks, taking a deep breath. Johnny pulled out when he could manage to, resting his face against Morrissey’s chest for a moment to compose himself.

“Alright, Johnny?” Morrissey asked casually, suppressing a hint of laughter.

“Fucking knackered”, Johnny laughed, kissing his neck. “Always get like that with you. It’s almost too much, but it feels so good. Better than anything. Oh, god”. He sighed and kissed Morrissey on the lips, and Morrissey could feel his arms still trembling as he wrapped them around him.

Johnny grinned, kissing him once more before moving to kiss along his neck. He kissed his chest lightly, pausing to suck at his nipples, making Morrissey thrust his hips up in pleasure. He made quick work of the rest of his torso, his hands moving lower, rubbing along his hips and his thighs eagerly. Johnny bypassed his cock and went to a familiar spot on the inside of the singer’s thigh, kissing hard immediately, sucking at his skin. Morrissey breathed in sharply and Johnny sucked harder for a moment, his hand gripping Morrissey’s leg, then leaned away with satisfaction as a bruise was already forming.

“The only spot I could ever leave marks on you”, Johnny noted in a hard voice, pressing his thumb against the love bite he left. “The only tangible spot, anyway”, Morrissey muttered. Johnny smiled and kissed his hips and his waist more gently, licking his lips and looking up at the singer before he touched his cock.

“Go ahead, darling”, Morrissey said, clearly amused. Johnny smiled and kissed all along his cock, letting out a deep breath before kissing his balls, making Morrissey let out a sharp gasp. “Oh, bit sensitive”, he said breathily.

Johnny smiled and kissed Morrissey’s cock again, leading up to his head, which he took into his mouth, running his tongue over the tip teasingly, tasting precum. Morrissey moaned, moving his hand into Johnny’s hair, but he didn’t push or pull the guitarist any further. Johnny closed his lips around the head of his cock and slid his mouth along it, slowing as he heard Morrissey moan, “Ooohh”, and then he took him deeper, creating a rhythm quickly as Morrissey’s moans and gasps picked up.

Morrissey’s breath caught in his throat as Johnny took him as deeply as he could, meeting his eyes. His mouth was open as he watched his partner, panting and gasping at the delight his lover took in making him moan underneath him. Johnny pulled back and moved his tongue over Morrissey’s cock, swirling over his head and pausing at a particular spot underneath his head that made him tremble with pleasure.

“God, Johnny”, Morrissey gasped, raising his head weakly to watch him.

Johnny smiled and moved up the bed to kiss him on the lips, shifting to kiss his ears and his neck while he caught his breath. “Let me know when you’re ready, okay honey?” Johnny asked as he moved back to Morrissey’s cock.

He still didn’t speed up his efforts too much, taking care to change his speed and his rhythm, but still not wanting to push him over the edge just yet. When Morrissey started breathing heavily he went slow and deep again, feeling the singer start to tremble. Morrissey muttered, “Oh, fuck”, and the shock of it made Johnny moan with his cock in his mouth, which made Morrissey moan louder. “Johnny, oh, yes”, he groaned, his breath catching in his throat as he gripped Johnny’s hand. His moans got higher for a moment, continuous and unstoppable, and he raised his hips with the rhythm Johnny kept up without being able to help it.

“I’m close”, Morrissey moaned, biting his bottom lip. “Oh, Johnny. I’m gonna cum”, he gasped, looking down at the guitarist as he started to go faster. He expected him to pull away and use his hand instead, but Johnny kept going, looking up at him with dilated pupils. “Aaah, baby”, Morrissey gasped, swallowing again as he felt his muscles tightening with his impending release.

“Mmm, fuck… Oooh, ohhh”, Morrissey moaned, and Johnny felt his cock pulse in his mouth, small bursts of cum shooting down his throat. He swallowed and still didn’t pull away, watching Morrissey moan through his orgasm, his chest heaving as he gasped and trembled. Johnny moved his mouth along Morrissey’s cock once more, feeling Morrissey’s hips jerk underneath him.

Morrissey was still panting, his mouth open and his eyes at the ceiling as Johnny wiped his mouth and moved back up the bed, putting his hand on Morrissey’s chest. “Now I can feel your heart racing”, Johnny noted, laughing. Morrissey smiled, unable to speak for a few moments longer. Johnny kissed him on the cheek and let the singer pull himself back together, getting up from his bed to go through his clothes, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and his lighter. Morrissey put his arm behind his head and watched Johnny move around his bedroom, lighting his cigarette and taking a deep drag. He went over to the window and moved aside the curtains, opening the windows to let out his cigarette smoke.

“You should keep these open in the summer, Mozzer”, Johnny said, turning back to look at his partner. Morrissey raised his eyebrows, studying Johnny’s naked figure silhouetted by the streetlights.

“And let the neighbors hear us in wild throes of ecstasy?” Morrissey asked.

“They’d enjoy it, I reckon”, Johnny smiled. Morrissey sat up in bed and ran his hand through his hair, taking a deep breath. He got out of bed slowly as Johnny smoked the rest of his cigarette, and headed towards the bathroom to turn the water on for the shower.

“Are you joining?” Morrissey asked from the bathroom.

“Yeah, go and start the water. I’m just going to change your sheets first. I’ll put them out with my laundry in the morning”, Johnny answered. Morrissey paused and watched for a moment as the guitarist stripped his sheets, balling them up near the door so he could take them with him the next day. He turned to the closet and caught Morrissey in the corner of his eye, standing in the doorway.

“You alright over there?” Johnny asked, pulling down a stack of fresh sheets from the singer’s closet.

“Yes. Wide awake”, Morrissey replied. He went into the bathroom and turned on the water, leaning against the sink as the water warmed up. Johnny started making up the bed and looked over at Morrissey, who stood watching him from the bathroom. “Go on”, Johnny said, tucking in the sheet.

Morrissey stood underneath the hot water and closed his eyes, running his hands through his hair and then scrubbing them over his face. He washed his hair and thought of nothing on purpose as the soap ran down the drain. He took a deep breath as he laced his fingers together and braced them against the back of his neck. A blast of air made him open his eyes, and Johnny stepped into the shower with him, closing his eyes as water washed over his face. Morrissey stepped to the side to make room for Johnny, reaching for the shampoo to hand it to him. Johnny washed his hair, feeling Morrissey’s arms around his waist.

Johnny leaned in and kissed along the singer’s collarbone, and Morrissey let go of him to reach for the soap, spreading it along his back, careful to mind his sunburn, then gripping his ass teasingly. Johnny smiled and tilted his head back underneath the water as Morrissey knelt to reach his legs, kissing his thighs and his hips. Johnny combed his fingers through Morrissey’s wet hair and the singer straightened up, running the loofah along his torso and his arms. Johnny leaned his head against Morrissey’s chest.

“You take such good care of me”, Johnny said.

“I want to”, Morrissey answered softly.

Johnny tilted his head up and Morrissey kissed him, tasting his mouthwash on Johnny’s breath. He hugged the shorter man against him and Johnny sighed against his lips, then reached to take the loofah from him, moving slowly and delicately over his skin. Johnny turned him around slowly, covering his back and his ass and his thighs. He kissed his back and his shoulders, then turned so they faced each other again, and Morrissey smoothed his hand over his hair, taking a deep breath as Johnny moved over his arms and his chest, his lips following lightly in some places after the water had washed off the soap. Morrissey swallowed as Johnny moved down his body, he was half-hard and embarrassed by it. He closed his eyes as Johnny’s hands moved over his waist, stopping before he went any lower.

“Impressive," Johnny noted, gripping the singer’s hips teasingly.

Morrissey sighed and said, “It was a very long month."

Johnny nodded his head, saying, “I agree”. Johnny kissed his neck and they stood intertwined with each other underneath the water a little longer until Johnny started yawning, and Morrissey shut off the water.

“Do you think you’ll be able to sleep?” Johnny asked as they returned to the bedroom. Morrissey opened a drawer of his bureau for a pair of shorts. When he turned to look at Johnny again he said, “I’ve got some lotion for your back”, instead. Johnny got into his bed and pulled up the covers to his naked waist, then turned over onto his stomach. Morrissey was unbearably gentle as he spread the lotion over his sunburn, and Johnny closed his eyes, nearly falling asleep right there.

“I hope it won’t bother you while you sleep”, Morrissey said in a concerned tone, putting away the lotion.

“I’ll be fine, Moz”, Johnny sighed, shutting his eyes again.

“Yes, you used to say that quite a lot…And look how it turned out”. Johnny swallowed and turned onto his side, looking at Morrissey warily. Morrissey furrowed his eyebrows at the hurt look on Johnny’s face, and lowered his gaze. He opened his mouth to apologize, but the words didn’t make it past the lump in his throat.

“I shouldn’t have said that”, he said evenly. Johnny shrugged his shoulders, shifting a pillow underneath his head. “Just come to bed. I’m tired, so I imagine you must be exhausted”, Johnny said quietly.

Morrissey turned off the light and got into bed next to him, pulling the covers over both of them. “I think I’ve bypassed feeling tired. I just feel old now”, Morrissey replied as Johnny wrapped his arm around his waist.

“Oh no, you’re too good looking to be old”, Johnny assured him. Morrissey laughed and Johnny nodded, kissing his shoulder.

“Come here”, Johnny whispered, pulling Morrissey closer. Morrissey put his arms around Johnny, careful not to bother his sunburn, and Johnny moved one of his hands up to touch his face gently, brushing his fingers along his jawline.

“I love you”, Johnny said softly. His eyes were wet as they met Morrissey’s deeply blue ones. Morrissey swallowed, hugging Johnny closer to him.

“I love you too, Johnny”, he replied. He was surprised he could still manage to sound like himself while trying to hold back tears.

“I want you to get some rest so we can get to feeling better”, Johnny told him, trying to smile.

“Okay”, Morrissey said quietly, closing his eyes. He swallowed hard and Johnny moved his fingers through his damp hair, turning his face so he could kiss him goodnight. Morrissey kissed back briefly, until Johnny pulled away and buried his face back against the pillow, their bodies still tangled together as they went to sleep.

Morrissey woke up with his body draped around Johnny’s, his face nestled against the top of Johnny’s head, his arm under Johnny’s arm and wrapped around his chest with Johnny’s hand holding onto his own. He breathed in deeply, out of habit, looking at the open windows across the room, then the man in his arms, and tears came to his eyes. Without a free hand to stop the tears before they fell and not wanting to wake up Johnny, he bit his lip and closed his eyes, burrowing his face against Johnny’s hair. His chest shook slightly as he took another deep breath, trying to stop himself from making a sound, and Johnny shifted against him, squeezing his fingers.

“You slept pretty soundly”, Johnny said through a yawn.

“I needed it”, Morrissey replied softly, his voice shaky. Johnny frowned, wishing he wasn’t familiar with that hurt tone of voice. He let go of Morrissey’s hand and Morrissey reached up quickly to press his thumb and his forefinger against the corner of his eyes, attempting to appear as though he hadn’t woken up crying, with the feeling of utter dread settled deep in his chest.

Johnny rolled onto his back, running his hand through his hair, and Morrissey sat up, moving to the edge of the bed and making like he was about to get up.

“Moz”, Johnny said hesitantly. He couldn’t pretend that it was other than exactly what it is; an extraordinary period of their lives coming to a close.

“Can’t we stay in bed a little longer?”, he asked. Morrissey nodded, defeated; feeling Johnny shifting over in bed. He propped himself up and put his arm around Morrissey’s chest, pressing his lips against the singer’s shoulder blade. “Please”, Johnny whispered, resting his head against his back.

“I told you that you don’t have to apologize”, Morrissey told him stiffly.

“Just come here”, Johnny said, tugging Morrissey back down against the bed. Morrissey looked over at him, biting his bottom lip to keep it from visibly trembling. He knew his eyes were red from crying, and that Johnny didn’t want to face this day either, but none of it made it any easier. Johnny put his arms around him, rubbing his hands along Morrissey back reassuringly, trying not to let his voice shake when he spoke. “It’s too early to be so upset, love”, he said quietly.

Morrissey lowered his head, pressing his face against Johnny’s neck. “I’m right here. You’re right here”, Johnny told him, putting his hand on the back of the singer’s head. “All we can do is take things one day at a time”, Johnny said.

“You’re too young to be speaking in bloody platitudes”, Morrissey replied tersely, making the guitarist laugh. Johnny kissed his hair and Morrissey shifted to look at him, his lips brushing against his jaw and his cheek until they met each other’s matching tearful eyes.

“Alright, Johnny?”, Morrissey asked shakily. Johnny shook his head, closing his eyes for a moment. Morrissey kissed him on the lips, bringing them together as closely as possible. “‘Course I’m not," Johnny muttered, taking a deep breath as a couple of tears rolled down his face.

“Thank god it’s not just me”, Morrissey laughed, leaning back rub his eyes as Johnny brought his hand up to his face.

“Ah, god. It’s not”, Johnny said thickly. “But we’ve got to try our best to carry on. For each other, if nothing else. It’s the fairest thing we can do…And it’s what I want for you, Moz”.

“I know”, Morrissey replied quietly. He swallowed and looked away, trying not to let his mind race ahead of him. Things were bad enough as they were already. He sighed and Johnny put his hand under his chin, making him meet his eyes again. He kissed the singer deeply, but there was no tone of finality. There never could be.

Morrissey kissed him back earnestly, and they rolled around the bed kissing and touching and holding each other close, so completely detached from the world around them when they were together- as they always wanted it to be. Morrissey’s telephone was ringing down the hall as Johnny’s lips moved along his throat and there was nothing else he could have asked these years to be, and he knew it. He watched Johnny kiss him and smiled when the younger man looked up at him, moving back up to meet his lips. He looked exactly as he did when they first met just then, his eyes as bright and convincing as they had been when he knocked on Morrissey’s mother’s front door.

“I love you so much," Morrissey said softly. “My whole life, I always will."

Johnny took his hand and placed it over his heart, beating more rapidly and noticeably than most, as Morrissey always pointed out to him when he felt it. “As long as we both live," Johnny reminded him. He leaned in and kissed Morrissey again, not wanting to pull away.

“You probably have to go home”, Morrissey said gently, squinting over at the clock. Johnny nodded, looking down Morrissey’s body sadly.

“I do, yeah," Johnny agreed, rubbing his fingers over his forehead. “I’ve got some horrible meetings to schedule," Johnny sighed.

“I won’t fight with you over any of it," Morrissey returned. “I won’t do that to you."

Johnny nodded as tears filled his eyes again, taking a deep breath. “I’ll let you know about the group meeting," Johnny said weakly, trying to suppress the emotion in his voice. “I just need a little more time”, he admitted. Johnny sat up and turned away from his partner, his shoulders shaking as he reached for his clothes. He kept his face turned away from Morrissey as he dressed, trying to compose himself, throwing the sheets from last night and the t-shirt Morrissey lent him into his duffel bag as Morrissey left the bedroom to use the bathroom.

“I’ll have your things dry-cleaned," Johnny said casually, attempting to appear calm as he sat on the edge of the bed again, fully dressed. Morrissey nodded and went into his bureau drawer and pulled out another t-shirt, putting it on slowly as Johnny watched from his bed, which he had made for him.

“Do you want a bit of breakfast?” Morrissey asked courteously.

“I shouldn’t," Johnny said, shaking his head. Morrissey swallowed and looked over at his bedroom door warily.

“Right," he said softly. Johnny clenched his jaw and got up from the bed, which signaled Morrissey to lead the way downstairs.

“Everything ends," Morrissey said, attempting a mask of bravery.

“What’d you say earlier about platitudes?” Johnny smiled. “It does or it doesn’t, anyway," he finished. Morrissey nodded and looked above Johnny’s head out the window. “I’ll see you soon, Mozzer," Johnny told him.

He wrapped his arms around Morrissey’s waist and the singer encircled him in his arms, holding him close. Johnny pressed his lips against his shoulder and his neck and then his lips, kissing him hard and cognizant of the unrestrained groan Morrissey left in the kiss, all emotion already at the forefront.  
Johnny broke the kiss, trying to catch his breath, both of their faces wet with tears. He hugged Morrissey tighter and pressed his head against the singer’s shoulder.

“I love you," Johnny said against the fabric of his t-shirt. Morrissey kissed him again, and then let go, his chest heaving with anxiety he’d been trying to push off until after Johnny left his line of sight.

“Take a valium and go back to bed. Please, baby," Johnny said, rubbing his eyes. Morrissey nodded and Johnny squeezed his hand and looked at him a moment longer before he let go and opened the door, walking out into summer air.

A few days later, Morrissey had to study the patterns on the floor of a chip ’n fish restaurant to keep from crying in public as Johnny dropped the final bomb. He couldn’t look any of his bandmates in the face, although Mike and Andy were equally heartbroken. It ended, even though he never thought it would. Even though it never made sense to, but at least he knew why it had to. Johnny never got him back his sheets or his t-shirt before he moved out to L.A. He was busy doing poppers and listening to electronic music, trying not to follow what Morrissey was doing through the music press.

In the condo that he rented out in California, Johnny made up his bed with Morrissey’s sheets when Angie was away. When he slept in them he had dreams about the singer he had left behind, but still couldn’t torture Morrissey by calling or writing, though his former partner had reached out to him numerous times. He told himself he couldn’t go back, but of course he had to. He took up too much of his heart and his mind and the place he was at now in his life to ever forget him, even for a minute.


End file.
